The Writings of Oliver Wendell Holmes: The professor at the breakfast table

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Riverside Press, 1891
 

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Page 319 - Grant us thy truth to make us free, And kindling hearts that burn for thee, Till all thy living altars claim One holy light, one heavenly flame...
Page 50 - You hear that boy laughing? You think he's all fun. But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done. The children laugh loud as they troop to his call. And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all.
Page 282 - Though long the weary way we tread, And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, "Thou art near ! " 3 When drooping pleasure turns to grief.
Page 50 - And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith : Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith; But he shouted a song for the brave and the free — Just read on his medal, "My country," "of thee !
Page 182 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech ; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
Page 239 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
Page 282 - O LOVE Divine, that stooped to share Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, On Thee we cast each earthborn care, We smile at pain while Thou art near ! Though long the weary way we tread, And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near...
Page 319 - Sun of our life, Thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day; Star of our hope, Thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night. Our midnight is Thy smile withdrawn ; Our noontide is Thy gracious dawn ; Our rainbow arch Thy mercy's sign ; All, save the clouds of sin, are Thine...
Page 49 - Gray temples at twenty ?" —Yes 1 white if we please ; Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze! Was it snowing I spoke of ? Excuse the mistake ! Look close, — you will see not a sign of a flake ! We want some new garlands for those we have shed, — And these are white roses in place of the red. We 've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told, Of talking (in public) as if we were old: — That boy we call " Doctor," and this we call "Judge"; It's a neat little fiction,...
Page 4 - There is then creative reading as well as creative writing. When the mind is braced by labor and invention, the page of whatever book we read becomes luminous with manifold allusion. Every sentence is doubly significant, and the sense of our author is as broad as the world.

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